Chapter 67: Laughing to Death

Lü Qiantang was certainly not deaf. He heard the sword immortal senior, whose exact identity was unknown, intended for him to spar with the Young Master. Although it would mostly be a laborious task of slowly "feeding moves" to help the Young Master practice his blade, Lü Qiantang trained in the Tide-Watching Heavy Sword, a style less delicate and precise than others. What if he accidentally injured the Young Master? To whom could he complain or seek justice? Going to the Grand Commandant, known for his protectiveness, would be suicidal. And preaching to the Young Master about how swords have no eyes? This Young Master did not seem like an easy person to reason with; he would likely make things difficult for Lü Qiantang every step of the way. Lü Qiantang sighed internally, resigning himself. So be it; he would meet whatever came his way. When the time came, he would just have to go all out, or at worst, stand still and let the Young Master cut him a few times.

Shuxiu, who Xu Fengnian had sharply ordered to "get out of the way" during their joint battle against the Talisman General Red Armored Man, curved her eyes in a smile. "How about that? Now it’s your turn to be in a tight spot, Lü Qiantang, for insisting on learning the sword. I’d like to see how you get out of this." Shuxiu lightly chided herself. "What 'old woman'? This young lady is still very much in her prime. How many women in this world, even at thirty, possess such captivating beauty? Pinch my cheek, and it feels like water could drip from my skin."

As Shuxiu, long retired from being a sorceress, admired herself, Xu Fengnian had already risen. Qingniao paid the bill, giving several extra taels of silver, which delighted the wine stall owner.

Watching the cavalcade slowly depart, the wine stall owner sat on an empty long bench, weighing the silver fragments and chuckling to himself. He rarely treated himself to a bowl of apricot lees wine, scooped by his assistant from the bottom of the vat. This stuff didn't sell for many coppers but was good for relieving fatigue. An old doctor had even said it could alleviate summer dampness and rheumatism, and prevent winter chilblains. Some villagers bitten by snakes or bees often came to ask for some lees to detoxify, and it was always effective. The shop owner looked up at the three dusty characters on his signboard flag, wondering when he should take it down for a good cleaning.

Just as he was pondering these minor matters, he felt the ground vibrate violently. He turned to look and saw a general, leading over a hundred elite cavalry, thundering past, wielding an unfamiliar, massive weapon. The owner rubbed his eyes; he hadn't seen wrong. It was the same heavily armored general who had been so respectful in front of the dashing young master earlier. He had also seen the Yongzhou troops' gear from afar a few times, which he found impressive, but this cavalry force was even more formidable and sharp. Aside from the stout general at the front, all the horses were lightly armored, each soldier carried a standard Beiliang saber, and bore a bow and crossbow. The owner vaguely recognized the saber; its reputation as a lethal weapon had spread throughout the world during the national wars of the Spring and Autumn era. Countless people across the dynasty once took pride in owning a Beiliang saber, but later the imperial court issued an edict forbidding anyone outside of Beiliang soldiers from privately possessing one, under penalty of law. Only then did the rampant trend gradually fade.

"Good heavens!" he exclaimed. "Which of Yongzhou's noble scions would travel with such an exaggerated retinue of a hundred elite cavalry following closely behind?"

"Could it be a military noble from Beiliang visiting Yongzhou? But it's been clear for years that Yongzhou, along with Quanzhou, is at loggerheads with Liangzhou. Even a commoner like me knows this. How could some profligate Beiliang scion have the audacity to mobilize troops and gallop through Yongzhou territory? Wouldn't that be a blatant insult to our Governor Tian?" The shop owner carefully put away the silver, one hand protecting his half-empty bowl of spirits. He raised his other hand and waved it to clear the dust. After much thought, he still couldn't figure out the background of that polite and elegant young master. In any case, he was the most distinguished person the owner had ever seen. The owner waited for the dust to settle, then raised his bowl and took a sip of the lees wine, sighing with emotion: "That young master, his family background and bearing are truly extraordinary. I'll have to tell my sheltered wife all about it later. Ah, it's a pity he's not from Yongzhou; otherwise, we'd have bragging rights."

Yuan Meng, the Captain of the Phoenix Battalion, a military officer from a middle-tier gentry family in Beiliang, had once fought side-by-side with Ning Emei against the terrifying Red Armored Man in the pouring rain. His path as a civil official was unsuccessful, so he joined the Beiliang army. From a young age, he practiced martial arts with a reclusive instructor from his clan, who had retired from the jianghu. Yuan Meng had mastered spear fighting. While he couldn't compare to "Little Slaughterer," who learned from the "Northern Spear Immortal Wang Xiu," he was still a formidable general, capable of leading charges and deploying formations independently. Honestly, losing dozens of brothers, whom he regarded as his own limbs, within just one day of leaving Beiliang made Yuan Meng furious to the point of spitting blood. What vexed him more was that he couldn't show such grievances on his face; he dared not criticize the Young Master.

It was amusing that Yuan Meng and the Great Halberd-wielding Ning Emei held the same rank—sixth grade, a neither-high-nor-low position. Yet, Yuan Meng respected General Ning wholeheartedly. The Beiliang Four Fangs were clearly a step below the Grand Commandant's six adopted sons, but in the Beiliang army, those six generals, each commanding their own forces, held high positions of power and were often out of reach. The Four Fangs Tiger Generals, however, were easier to encounter: they could be seen fighting on the border or celebrating victories. In Yuan Meng's view, General Ning was the most popular of the Four Fangs. He always led from the front in battle, just like the Grand Commandant, and in his military tent, he was approachable, far easier to get along with than hot-tempered generals like Dian Xiongchu, who would often resort to flogging. Especially in the small county town of Heyang, General Ning had used his halberd to flip that insolent East Forbidden Deputy Commander off his horse, pinning his cruciform iron halberd against the man's chest. The man didn't dare utter a sound under the halberd! It was exhilarating and deeply satisfying—that was the true essence of a fierce Beiliang general!

Ning Emei suddenly raised his halberd and reined in his horse, turning to the light cavalry and laughing loudly, "The Young Master told me while drinking just now that if he had been at Yingchuan city gate that day, he would have stripped that East Forbidden Deputy Commander and hung him on the city gate!"

Yuan Meng froze.

The hundred personal guards of the Phoenix Battalion likely shared Yuan Meng's expression; their hearts stirred slightly, but they didn't take the remark too seriously.

Ning Emei merely relayed the message, then continued riding, his massive halberd almost dragging on the ground.

According to the itinerary, they were supposed to enter a city for rest at dusk, but Xu Fengnian did not. He instructed Lü Qiantang to choose a small path leading into the Qingcheng Mountain range. This meant that unless they found a palace, temple, or monastery in the mountains, the group would have to sleep in the wilderness tonight. Qingcheng Mountain boasted sixty-four peaks, which encircled like a city. Its ancient trees remained verdant year-round, giving it the name "Green City."

Yongzhou had three magnificent scenic wonders: the "Sword Pavilion of the West" in the east, said to have been cleft by a sword immortal, renowned for its perilous heights; Kuimen Pass in the south, where a sage was said to have ridden an ox, unmatched in its grandeur. And then there was this famed Taoist mountain, a blessed land that produced a Qingcheng King. Originally a grotto-heaven of the Nine-Dou Rice Dao, the current master of Qingyang Palace, who was bestowed the title of Qingcheng King by the old emperor, was actually a Taoist from the Longhu Zhengyi Dao. He had effectively usurped the nest, expelling all the flourishing Nine-Dou Rice Daoists, leaving only Qingyang Palace to dominate. As a result, the incense offerings at the verdant Qingcheng Mountain dwindled sharply year after year, making it far more desolate than other famous mountains, truly unfitting for Qingcheng Mountain's resounding reputation. To make matters worse, with fewer visitors, the number of bandits occupying the mountains increased. These scattered, wandering outlaws, whose movements were unpredictable, also styled themselves as kings alongside the Qingcheng King. The government found it extremely troublesome to suppress them; even offering large rewards, old mountain hunters who dared to guide often came up empty. After several setbacks, the prefect, seeing that the Qingyang Palace master was ungrateful and even turned the tables, accusing the yamen of causing trouble and disturbance in this tranquil place, became furious and even less willing to expend resources. Only if high-ranking officials who came to explore and appreciate the scenery of Qingcheng Mountain were unfortunately robbed would troops be dispatched into the mountains under pressure. Ordinary citizens in danger were completely ignored.

The government simply waited for Qingcheng Mountain to become a dead mountain and a dead city, to see how a Qingcheng King with an empty title could maintain his incense offerings.

The Young Master's change of itinerary deeply affected Wei Shuyang, an old Nine-Dou Rice Daoist. In his youth, he had lived in a thatched hut on a peak behind the mountain. However, he wasn't someone who had pursued Taoism from a young age; he only became a Taoist after various disappointments. He had some affection for Qingcheng Mountain, though not profound. He was, however, quite indignant about the Qingcheng King's expulsion of the Nine-Dou Rice Daoists. If not for the crucial duty of protecting the Young Master, he would certainly confront the Taoist from Qingyang Palace who came from Longhu Mountain to claim the title of king in Qingcheng.

Qingcheng Mountain was known for its frequent fogs, and after half an hour of entering the mountain, the twilight felt particularly heavy. Xu Fengnian was not in a hurry to have Lü Qiantang find a place to rest for the night. He rode his white horse, looking at ease. Yu Youwei listened to the old Taoist Wei Shuyang describe Qingcheng Mountain's uniquely beautiful scenery along the way and was not worried about sleeping outdoors. Back when tens of thousands of people fled the Western Chu imperial city, she and her father were swept up in the deluge—what hardship had they not endured?

Xu Fengnian recalled that back then, he had left the main road to the mountain because he heard there was a top-ranked Taoist grotto-heaven on it. However, he ended up encountering a group of bandits in broad daylight, leading to a clumsy chase where he fled and they pursued, a truly embarrassing situation. As Xu Fengnian thought about it, his lips curled into a smile. If he hadn't known Old Huang was Sword Nine Huang, he might have taken much longer to realize that the gap-toothed fellow who loved yellow wine was a master. At that time, Xu Fengnian was on horseback, while Old Huang was on foot, carrying his satchel and luggage, running at full speed without slowing down. If that thin frame were an ordinary person, where would he have found the boundless energy to run alongside a swift horse for half the mountain? Why hadn't he realized it then?

Xu Fengnian snapped out of his thoughts, looked at the familiar scenery from memory, and smiled, "Lü Qiantang, about a li further up, there's a dilapidated Taoist temple. Go scout it out first."

Lü Qiantang took the order and left.

The mountain was damp and cold, and Yu Youwei felt a chill. She hugged Wu Meiniang tightly. Xu Fengnian glanced at them and said softly, "Tonight, you and Jiang Ni will sleep in the carriage."

Yu Youwei's expression was complex. She lowered her gaze and looked at Wu Meiniang, who looked up at her.

Not long after, Lü Qiantang returned and respectfully reported, "Reporting to Your Highness, there is indeed an empty Taoist temple, with no one else there."

Xu Fengnian nodded, then turned to Yang Qingfeng and instructed, "Go catch some wild game."

Yang Qingfeng leaped, disappearing into the dense forest, his horse still obediently moving forward.

The Taoist temple was still the same temple, but it was even more dilapidated than it had been years ago. Lü Qiantang gathered firewood and built a bonfire in the courtyard. Tonight, the three of them would naturally take turns on watch. If Shuxiu refused, Lü Qiantang wouldn't bother with such trivial matters. Among the three princely retainers, their status was ambiguous; the Grand Commandant hadn't bothered to clarify, and the Young Master had never given a definitive word, seemingly wanting them to compete for position during their journey. As for whose methods were stronger or weaker, it was truly hard to say. Lü Qiantang had full confidence in his Red Glow Sword, but he wasn't blindly arrogant. Against the Talisman General Red Armored Man, Shuxiu's internal energy was not to be underestimated, and Yang Qingfeng's enigmatic techniques were even more unfathomable. Stepping back, what was the point of competing anyway? The maid whom the Young Master called Qingniao had displayed a move earlier that day that had truly shocked him.

Yang Qingfeng returned with several pheasants and wild rabbits, and even carried a muntjac. But the Young Master singled out the pheasants, smiling as he said, "These are a specialty of Qingcheng Mountain—Ginkgo Chickens. They grow by pecking at ginkgo nuts, and their meat is even more fragrant than the muntjac's. You'll know once you taste them later, assuming I can control myself and not eat them all."

Behind the Taoist temple was a clear spring. Qingniao and Jiang Ni, who Xu Fengnian had sent with a glare, peeled and cleaned the game together. Planning for the long term, Xu Fengnian had Qingniao teach Jiang Ni, who could burn even a roast goose, how to control the heat. Xu Fengnian sat on the steps, his two swords, Embroidered Winter and Spring Thunder, laid on his lap. Yu Youwei, who traveled with few personal belongings, did not wish to sit on the ground and dirty her clothes, so she stood beside Xu Fengnian, holding Wu Meiniang. The old sword god, however, lay flat on his back on the highest step, using a randomly picked bluestone as a pillow. Yang Qingfeng fed the horses outside the courtyard, while Shuxiu and Lü Qiantang stood guard at the entrance like a pair of door gods.

As Xu Fengnian simply waited for the delicious food, he turned his head, pointed to a distant, majestic peak, and quietly said, "That mountain peak over there is Qingyang Palace. If it's a clear night after rain, you can see the spectacular sight of thousands of lights ascending towards the heavens. But I only heard this from Old Huang; I've never seen it myself. Back then, I was robbed down the mountain, almost ran myself to death, and in my panic, rode my horse onto a forest path. I was knocked off my horse by a low-hanging branch. So, Old Huang and I were tied up and brought here. Luckily, it turned out fine, and I even had the good fortune to taste half a Ginkgo Chicken. I think I mercifully shared a chicken leg with Old Huang, who suffered with me... or was it half a chicken? Anyway, he was so grateful he was crying snot and tears, it made me laugh so hard."

Yu Youwei, however, noticed that the Young Master, who claimed to be "laughing so hard," wasn't smiling at all.